


Worship At Your Altar

by VillainousDarling



Category: Bridgerton (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cunnilingus, Exhibitionism, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-15 04:47:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29803149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VillainousDarling/pseuds/VillainousDarling
Summary: You and Viscount Anthony Bridgerton were childhood friends. You’ve always longed for more from your relationship, but the stubborn man, and his emotions, have always been a mystery. Jealousy brings things to a head 😉Warnings: Angst (with a happy ending in part 2), smut, fighting
Relationships: Anthony Bridgerton & Reader, Anthony Bridgerton & You, Anthony Bridgerton/Reader, Anthony Bridgerton/You, anthony bridgerton & female reader, anthony bridgerton/female reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 32





	1. Chapter 1

Y/N and Anthony Bridgerton had been playmates when they were children, and though they were complete opposites, their strong friendship had persisted into adulthood.

Many were sure their attachment to one another would eventually lead to marriage. Anthony’s Mother, Violet, once whispered to Y/N that she believed her son was in love with her—that it was only a matter of time before he told her himself. Even Lady Whistledown had joined the conversation, remarking on the unexpected match with her trademark acuity and wit. 

Y/N loved to read, and- while Anthony was intelligent- he had always preferred to pursue pleasures that could not be found in the written word. She was reserved, while he was outwardly self-assured- and sometimes- even a bit smug. She was wide-eyed and unsophisticated in the ways of the world, while he was versed and practiced- much to her chagrin.

In their relationship, she found an ease that was present with no other person, along with a curious sensation in the pit of her stomach everytime the viscount smiled. One issue remained, albeit a major one.

Anthony had never proclaimed to be in love with her.

He had been her first kiss. After their lips had clumsily smashed together, he had looked upon her with a youthful devotion- like she had gifted him something special- and promised he would never hurt her.

But that was long ago.

Since that time, they had practiced when the occasion called for it. Well, _she_ had practiced. Anthony was well-aware that his mouth could bewitch a woman. When those rare occurrences did happen, she was sure she saw his affection and dedication written on his countenance. But in public, he still he treated her as if she were one of his many sister’s.

As she witnessed him move from woman to woman, her heart broke a bit more. She had lost him temporarily, many times. Her skin warmed with shame as she remembered her elation when Anthony had come to her, and told of his parting with the opera singer, Siena.

She refused to think of the day she would lose him permanently.

She was self-conscious when it came to her relationship with the viscount- if ‘relationship’ was the correct word for it. She knew he cared for her, but it didn’t seem to be enough.

Could their tiny spark survive the blaze that was Siena?

Did the warmth even compare?

Because she was so ill at ease, she focused on every, tiny thing, putting more importance on Anthony’s action’s than she would have, otherwise.

Making things worse were her friends. They meant well, but they often warned her to guard her heart- that Anthony was a known rogue- and though he may still hold a childish affection towards his old friend, it would likely lead nowhere.

Further complicating matters was her discomfort concerning the recent matter that she had been desperate to conceal from her friends- from _everyone._

The night that Anthony and Siena’s relationship had come to its final conclusion, he had appeared at her window; throwing a few small stones to get her attention. He hadn’t come to her window since the days of their youth, and in curiosity and confusion, she had quickly let him in.

Her oldest friend was deeply distressed. She led him to her bed; her sole intention focused on soothing him. Forgotten was the fact that she was alone with a man in the middle of the night, wearing nothing but her slip and corset. His cheek lay against her breast; his breathing disjointed and heavy. She whispered nurturing words- trailing her hands down his back, pressing him further against her.

The muscles underneath her palms tensed.

She was unsure when the shift had occurred, but it now seemed as if the oxygen had been sucked from the room. She went still at the tension, holding her breath, as his increased substantially. A quick movement brought him forward, and then his mouth was at her neck.

She gasped, her eyes fluttering as his parted lips delicately ghosted down the column of her throat. The way her body arched into his touch seemed to incite his passions, because things only progressed from there.

In the next moment, she was on her back with his lips against hers- his motions parting them so his tongue could slip inside. Though his hands wandered, he touched her as if she were made of glass- as if she were exalted in his eyes. She never knew he could be so gentle. He was above her, yet he held his weight away from her. She wanted to feel more- to press herself against him. She wanted him to touch her- all of her- especially the parts hidden by her clothing.

She was so entranced with the intricate way his hands and lips moved against her own, that she failed to realize Anthony had been sneakily working down the straps of her slip; his long fingers deftly pulling apart the stays of her corset. As the cold air hit her bare skin, he moved onto an elbow; examining her with a blazing intensity and a challenge. Their eyes remained locked together as he took his time; leisurely pulling apart the loosened corset. His gaze trailed down to the slip that hung at her waist, before moving up and onto the breasts that were now completely on display before him.

Her muscles clenched as he slowly tortured her- trailing the fingertips of his free hand down her sternum- before lightly tracing the edge of her breasts. He closed his eyes as she trembled; his face suddenly overwrought. Then- with a deep breath- he inclined his head; swiftly capturing a nipple. His tongue wrapped around the bud as he used a firm tug to further draw the sensitive peak into his warm mouth. Her hands immediately laced into his hair as she bit against her lip. 

He placed his large hands on her ribs, holding each breast up to his searching mouth, as he moved between them. He answered her soft moans with sweet endearments, whispered against her skin. She pulled against his hair as he lightly suckled her; her hips moving on their own accord in a bid to relieve a tension she couldn’t name.

The place between her thighs throbbed uncomfortably. This wasn’t the only time Anthony had inspired this confounding sensation in her, and it wasn’t the first time she had flushed with shame.

Desire this acute must be forbidden. Nothing so arresting and altering came without its price.

He finally allowed his weight to fall against her, and obligations, debts, and settlements- what she would eventually owe for her indiscretion- hardly mattered. As his hips compressed her own, she rose up to meet him; moving against him at a steady pace. He pressed his mouth into her neck; his breath falling unevenly against her ear as he slid his hand up and under her slip. She felt the catch of his breath as his palm wrapped around the bare skin of her hip- free from bloomers. 

Suddenly, his eyes were back on hers. To her surprise, Anthony looked as if he would dart.

She wanted him to stay.

Her heart pounded against her chest as his gaze intensely searched her; looking for an answer that she couldn’t postulate.

She silently damned her meek disposition. and squirmed uncomfortably. His jaw tensed, and he softly groaned; his fingers tightening around her.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

As she made to move from him, he pinned her in place; his hands and his glare equally forceful. It seemed to take an extraordinary amount of effort for him to speak her name. The timbre of his voice was rough and unrestrained, and affected her to such a degree, she felt her heart riot. 

“How do you---"

A commotion in the hallway cut him off, and their eyes met, and simultaneously widened. Anthony had nearly tripped over his own feet as he startled away from her, and swiftly slipped out of her bedroom window. She had righted her clothing, and tried to fix her hair, then blew out the candle, and jumped underneath the blanket; closing her eyes and feigning sleep, just as her Father opened the door, and peered inside the dark confines.

It all would have been humorous if she weren’t so afraid, and let down.

Y/N was irked when- the very next day- Anthony greeted her as if he had not plunged her into an existential crisis just the night before. He did not mention what had occurred, and though she longed to broach the subject, she was too disconcerted to bring it up herself, as she feared he regretted touching her at all. Their friendship had quickly returned to what it had always been.

A few weeks later, she accompanied him and his family to the theatre. She twined her fingers through his as soon as they had taken their seats. He threw her a wholesome smile, and a squeeze- one that he often gave to the children in his life- one that seemed to say, _‘You are a dear friend, and nothing more.’_

At least, that was how her battered heart took it.

The actors mimed a sensual act on the stage as the audience chuckled or gasped- their level of outrage depending on their status and age.

She couldn’t stop imagining what her and Anthony had done---how his warm palms had caressed her. How his mouth---

She practically launched his appendage away from her own, and loudly cleared her throat. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched as Anthony draped his palm over his knee; his knuckles whitening with tension.

To her relief, the first act ended.

She stood and clapped loudly; her excitement overblown and strange. Anthony looked at her with suspicion; slowly standing to lightly clap, beside her.

After the curtain fell, the Bridgerton’s moved outside in a mass; talking boisterously about the play. Her and Anthony stayed behind the group as an uncharacteristic silence still lingered over them. Suddenly, Anthony was no longer beside her. She turned to see that he had stopped in his tracks. She followed his line of vision, and saw Siena; her arm linked through that of her new beau. He watched her move past; his lingering glance full of regret and dismay.

She knew she was being unfair, but couldn’t help the familiar seizing of her heart. She was certain that a person could love more than once, and in a million different manners. His past affections didn’t necessarily dampen whatever he felt for her…..

But he had never looked at her the way he looked at the beautiful, opera singer.

He never looked at _anyone_ that way.

It was clear to her that she would never be able to live up to what he had lost. Tears threatened to spill as she envisioned a future with Anthony.

She would take his last name, hold his arm, and deliver his heir. Meanwhile, his mind, and heart- his love- would belong to another. couldn’t bear the thought. It was unbearable.

If she were to be _anything_ to him, she would be the loyal friend as she always had been.

There was no future for them apart from that.

She had relented when her Mother begged to introduce her to a man of good standing- one who had previously asked about her on many occasions. After the first visit, he continued to call on her.

It wasn’t that James wasn’t a perfectly suitable match. He was polite, kind, and a baron from Scotland. Yet, there was something off. She refused to contemplate the nagging guilt, and shuffled the feeling away—stepping out of the carriage and into the park.

It was to be their fifth arranged meeting- a promenade around the park. She waited, and waited; the river and flowers growing dull as time passed.

James did not show up.

It was only later that she found out why.

Lady Whistledown had informed the ton that Viscount Anthony Bridgerton had approached James and threatened him; warning the man that he would, “have his head,” if he even so much as looked in Y/N’s direction.

Suffice it to say, the young baron had quickly journeyed back to his dear Scotland- without saying goodbye.

///////////

She stomped through the Bridgerton home, moving straight towards Anthony’s office.

The door slammed against the wall as she threw it open.

Anthony sat, leaning over a document. The door slammed against the wall as Y/N threw it open. His shocked eyes flew to her furious ones, and he examined her; his quill pen stilled in the air.

“What have you done?” her voice trembled.

He blinked, and threw his pen to the desk; falling back into his chair, and lacing his hands behind his head- a pose of smug insolence. 

“What was necessary. He wasn’t the right man for you.”

“How dare you! You are not the expert on who is right or wrong for me!”

“No man would suit you, sweet……Unless he was a mindreader.”

“What does that mean?”

He snorted, and arched a brow; his eyes filled with a simmering anger that only served to incite her fury even more.

“Does your baron make promises? Does he bring you presents, and flowers, and whisper sweet words?”

“He does nothing, now. You sent him away!”

“Does he say he loves you?”

“We’ve just met---”

“ _Does he?”_

She averted her eyes; her chest heaving with indignation.

“He’s toying with your heart, Y/N.”

“There is but _one_ man who toys with my heart- who has _always_ done so- and that man isn’t James.”

His eyes narrowed, and blazed at her words, as he leaned forward, and pressed his hands against the desk.

“If you’re implying what I think you are---”

 _“I am_.”

“Be very careful about the next words that leave your mouth…”

“Perhaps I will write him, and beg him to whisk me away to Scotland. Marriages there are far less---”

He stood, and slammed his fists against the wood; the sound reverberating through the space, and making her jump.

“You won’t see him again, and that’s final.”

In a rage, she took a piece of expensive glass that had sat gathering dust on the shelf, and threw it in his direction.

“I am not one of your sister’s! You have no right to command me!”

Anthony watched the glass sail past his head; his knuckles whitening as he gripped the desk in disbelief. Then he was moving around the desk- three, swift strides bringing him directly in front of her.

One hand moved to the small of her back, while the other wrapped around the back of her neck.

“You’re _mine_ ,” he bit out.

“I am _not_ yours, you pompous, arrogant, bastard!”

“To hell you’re not,” he murmured; his grip tightening as she made to move.

“You are a disrespectful, indecisive, little boy---- not half the man James is.”

His eyes shadowed at the mention of the baron’s name; his finger’s digging further into her skin.

“Tell me, madame….How exactly have I disrespected you?”

“Perhaps you get around so much that what occurred between us has completely slipped your mind….”

He visibly swallowed, and loosened his grip.

“You do not have to worry about anything,” he whispered. “Your honor is safe with me. You have my word.”

She escaped his grasp with an exasperated sigh, and he groaned; pulling her back to him with a firm grip around her wrist.

“Why do you look at me as if I’ve insulted you!?”

She fought hard to conceal the rising passion.

She failed.

“Why do you look at _me_ as if I’m a second-prize ribbon?!”

Her voiced seemed to screech in its intensity. The tone and the teary eyes, were a bit overdramatic- even to her. Anthony silently watched her as she closed her eyes, and took a few deep breaths.

“I’m doing this for you,” he softly spoke. “I won’t allow you to be ruined.”

“You seem to care nothing for honor when you’re slipping into the bed’s of half the ton-”

“What did you mean by ‘second-prize ribbon?’” he interrupted.

“I beg you, Anthony----Please…stop the charade.”

He stayed silent as his narrowed eyes bore holes through her form.

“What charade? I care about you. I intend to marry you—"

“If you care about me…..then let me go. I do not desire to be used as a pawn in your game to get over Siena….I deserve more.”

He released her and took a step back, faltering as if he had been struck.

“Maybe you don’t love me as I love you,” she swallowed; choking back more infantile tears. “But does our shared history not compel you to desire more for me?? Do I not deserve a marriage with someone who can love me in return?”

He continued to silently glare at her; his nostrils flaring. Then, he shook his head; lightly laughing, before making his way to the window. He looked out at a distance she could not see- his back to her- effectively shutting her out.

“Please accept my apologies… I will write to your baron-- I’ll do whatever it takes to win your friendship again.”

She wrung her hands, and debated on what to say next. She didn’t truly care about his apology to the baron. She wanted nothing more than to have her friend back- this whole debacle behind them. Anthony would go on to marry another, and she would stand by his side. She hoped she would find someone that loved her just as much- someone that rendered her feelings toward Anthony, obsolete.

She just needed time.

“Please forgive me, Y/N…. None of this should have happened. I…..I shouldn’t have touched you.”

His low voice- filled with regret and disgust- took her by surprise.

“I’ll no longer be a hindrance to you, my lord.”

His shoulders visibly tensed, but his voice remained the same.

“How many times have I told you not to call me that?”

She turned and moved towards the door, stepping into the hallway, and calling over her shoulder.

“Men often forget how cruel they can be…..especially when they believe they are doing the right thing.”

/////////


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You are forced to confront your problems with Anthony in a familiar place.
> 
> Warnings: Angst (happy ending), smut, exhibitionism (kind of)

Anthony’s hand’s shook as he sat in his study, pouring his third- or perhaps, fourth- brandy of the evening. He felt crazed and unhinged- as if he were possessed by demons- like he could not control his anatomy, or his thoughts. Anger, suspicion, lust, confusion, yearning, and shame- emotions he had worked so hard to contain- had free rein of his person, and they demanded acknowledgement.

But the one person who could appease the evil spirits was avoiding him. His poor angel and her careening reactions were so often a mystery to him. The devil in him urged him to go to her at once- to force her to reveal her feelings once and for all.

He knew he had wounded her in some manner.

A great portion of his existence brought him shame. He had damaged many women. The path of destruction left in his wake would have disappointed his Father. Hurting Y/N was the one thing he vowed he would never do.

He had tainted her. At least, that was how she had looked at him when she claimed that he didn’t love her- that he used her to get over another. Her eyes had gone hazy as she had met his gaze, and then he suddenly knew: _he_ was an idiot, and _she_ was completely unaware of the lengths he would go to when it came to her. Instead of consoling her, he had turned away, unable to bear the look on her face.

But, of course it had come to this. He was Anthony- the beastly Viscount of Ignorance and Insensitivity. He had attributed the tremble in his body to the lack of sleep and the brandy, but- truth be told- he had been shaking since the encounter, weeks before.

He had always cared deeply for Y/N, but eventually came to love her. The attraction grew with time, and age, though he had no earthly idea whether she felt the same. Sometimes her warmth overwhelmed him, other times, she shut him out completely; her smile refusing to reach her eyes. The first time he had dared to kiss her had been an unexpected occurrence. He had been filling her in on the recent ton drama when she had suddenly glanced down at his lips; her eyes darkening. His heart had nearly beat out of his chest at the discovery that even his angel could be tempted.

She had met his ungraceful lunges at her mouth with a vigor of her own. He then pinned all his hopes upon the encounter. But, the next day, she once again shut him out.

His friend’s mysterious nature compelled him to hide the intensity of his passion for her.

Why did she have to be so stubborn?

His jaw tensed as he thought on the situation with impatience. He had to fight the impulse to climb up the ledge to her window- to confront her, and make her understand.

Though she never said it, he was sure her willful behavior stemmed from fear. It killed him that he wasn’t confident whether it was intimacy and trust she feared, or _him._

It was no wonder she had some trepidation. He had basically attacked her in her bedroom; kissing her, and drawing her nipples into his mouth. If the commotion in the hall had not rudely interrupted, he was sure he would have had her completely nude and under him.

He had no desire to ruin, mistreat her, or scare her. If he had frightened her, he was sorry for that, alone. But he would not apologize for touching her. In fact, he wanted to do it again. It was all he could think about.

His skin began to heat up as he recalled her soft moans, and her body, as it was slowly revealed to him- blossoming like a rose.

He wrenched his eyes shut, and finished his drink.

He knew that he should set her free, but he was certain the notion was impossible. He had to speak to her- to tell her he would never regret loving her- even at the cost of her tears.

Even if friendship was all she could offer him in return.

He thought on the baron he had sent away, and shook his head; an intense lightning flash of jealousy bolting throughout his form.

Then he pulled his quill, and a piece of parchment, from his desk.

He was still a sinner, after all.

/////////////////

The weeks after she had stormed from Anthony’s study seemed to pass in a fog of melancholy.

She hadn’t tried to contact him since that day, choosing instead to marinate in her uncomfortable state.

And he had not come to see her.

Almost immediately, she had regretted being so harsh with her oldest friend. She missed him, and wished they could go back to the way they were before the fight- before the kiss, even.

She knew she had wounded him, when all she had hoped to do was inform him of her frustration. He seemed unable to recognize the ways in which he had hurt her.

He had consistently led her along, and made her believe she had a true shot at his love. His indecision toward her impelled her hatred of the nicknames she had once loved.

_Angel, my sweet, little love._

They made her feel weak and small- undeserving of a man such as him.

Perhaps that was Anthony’s purpose all along. As it went, he seemed to only kiss and touch her in his moments of weakness- when he had no one else. She could often see the regret in those dark eyes the second he pulled his lips from hers.

Though she didn’t much care for the baron, or any other man, the one she truly desired was unavailable. 

Well, if he was bound to be so indecisive, he should let her go. He couldn’t keep threatening every suitor that came her way, and she wouldn’t allow him to force her “onto the shelf,” in a bid to protect her innocence, nor would she accept his marriage proposal.

She did not want his pity.

A footman interrupted her despondent ponderings, and handed her a sealed envelope.

She sighed, and opened it; her heart clenching at the familiar scrawl.

_I must speak with you._

_Do I still have your heart?_

She took a deep breath, and quickly hid the correspondence under her pillow; proceeding to go about her day. She had planned to pen a prompt response the very next morning, but as she pulled open the drapes, she was handed another letter. This time, Anthony’s handwriting appeared strained- as if he had pressed his pen into the paper with substantial force.

_I’m allowing you one more day._

_If you fail to write me and tell me of a time and place we can meet, I will show up at a time of my choosing, and get my answers that way._

_Be assured I will do it most unexpectedly… so you cannot hide._

_I leave it all up to you, my severe angel._

_But as always, my patience has its limits._

_Write me, Y/N, and soon- or else, expect to see me at your inconvenience._

She threw the paper to her desk with a huff.

She was conflicted and needed to be alone, so she hastily packed a basket, and rode her horse to the farthest meadow she knew of. She had often adventured to the beloved spot with Anthony when they had been old enough to go out alone, but not too old for their sneaking away to be deemed inappropriate. They had frequently spent countless hours lying in the lush, emerald grass, with the blue sky above them- content to talk, and relax; especially after he had lost his Father.

Years later, the place was still a peaceful utopia, populated by bright wildflowers, with miles of uninhabited land between her and civilization. It held a dear place in her heart, along with the book she had brought- one about a prince- about redemption.

Another favorite from her childhood.

She spread her blanket onto the grass, and moved to her stomach; opening her book. The immense silent was a comfort, and she had just begun to relax into it, when an overwhelming feeling took over.

She was sure something was missing, and it was undeniable what that _something_ was.

_No._

She would not think of him. Not right now.

She had vowed that this day would serve as a reprieve from the constant affliction Anthony posed, and she was going to keep that promise for her own sanity.

But, as her eyes continued to skim the pages, her mind floated elsewhere.

Just like the royal in her book, Anthony was a man of inconsistencies and opposites. He was passionate about so much, yet often struggled with the responsibility that had been thrust upon him after his Father’s sudden passing. He was conflicted, just as she was. He frequently told her how he wrestled with questions of honor, leadership, and desire.

Her eyes filled with tears. She wanted so badly to surrender- to accept any type of affection he could offer. But she was terrified to give her heart to a man who had the power to rip it to shreds, if he so chose. She craved for him to love her- _to need her-_ like she needed him. She knew she couldn’t take it if she were to marry him, and witness his gaze lingering on what he had lost. She did not want to be another responsibility- _a burden-_ that he would be forced to carry.

Abruptly, the peaceful silence of the meadow became oddly alarming.

Her body tensed with alertness; the hair at her nape prickling as if an intense gaze traveled along her form. The sensation of being under the lingering, fervent eye wasn’t unpleasant, though it was surely dangerous.

_Anthony._

He was behind her. She knew it.

She calmly turned the page, and cleared her throat.

“How did you find me?”

“I’ll always find you…”

His rough voice seemed to vibrate throughout her body. It beckoned her to turn, but she refused it.

She longed to stay safe inside her childhood for a moment more.

“I thought what happened next was my call?”

“I couldn’t wait that long,” he breathed out “And knowing you as I do, I would be cooling my heels for the rest of time—which is out of the question.”

“What do you want from me, Anthony?”

“That night in your bedroom….I began to ask you a question- something _very_ important- but we were interrupted. I’d like to ask it now.”

She sighed, and turned onto her elbow; finally meeting his gaze.

His height towered over her as it always did- blocking the light of the sun. With a start, she noticed how tired he looked. His appearance was slightly disheveled, and his eyes were red-rimmed. He let her examine him for a mere moment, before he spoke.

“How do you feel about me?”

She softly laughed; her head tilted in confusion.

“You _know_ how I feel.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I never know what you’re thinking or feeling, because you never tell me. I’ve tried to be patient- to gently push you to honesty. I’ve even tried to roughen you up- to force it from you. But still, I am wandering around in the dark.”

He refused to break eye-contact, and- upon closer inspection- Y/N saw love there, along with devotion, fear, and trauma.

It halted her breath with its intensity.

“So often, you look at me with---”

“With what?”

“Wariness. As if you do not really know me. Like you’re certain I’ll break your heart, and feel nothing for doing it.”

Her mouth hung open now, though no words would come.

“And though your lack of trust wounds me deeply, I don’t blame you for it.”

“I do trust you,” she replied, softly.

“No. How many times have I told you that I loved you, and waited for you to say it back, only for you to laugh it off, and change the subject? Even when I kissed you…when I ached with desire for you, you thought I was using you….You look for hidden meanings in every word I say.”

She had no response to give, as he was correct in his assumptions.

She _didn’t_ trust him, nor did she trust herself, or her intense feelings.

She sat up fully, and averted her eyes.

“You desire me?”

“Y/N… I’ve been holding myself back from ravishing you for years. How were you unaware?”

“I’m…sorry.”

He sighed heavily at her look of confusion, and made his way to her; sitting down on the blanket, and running his hand through his hair.

“As I said -I cannot blame you for your lack of trust in me. I will even admit that I deemed it necessary to allow you to believe the worst, thinking it would be best for the both of us. I have often vowed to stay away from you. I’m an inconsiderate man who has ruined many women who crossed my path, and I haven’t always made the right choices--- of which I am all too aware. But my biggest regret is hurting you….”

“It is?”

“ _Yes_ ,” he bit out; his voice tinged with annoyance.

“I’ve never felt as if you looked at me the way you looked at the other women—like you looked at Siena.”

“Everytime I try to speak honestly with you, you mention her name….Why is that?”

“How could I not? You loved her, and you still do.”

“I think you’re trying to put a wall between us- like you often do.”

“And what if I am? Someone has to protect me- it might as well be me.”

Suddenly, his eyes were narrowed, and angry. When she turned from him, he took hold of her chin.

“You don’t need to be protected from me,” he whispered.

“I certainly do- if the way you behaved towards the baron means anything. It’s infuriating that you think you have the right to control my life, and who I talk to.”

“I didn’t say I had the right,” he replied- his jaw tense, and his eyes wild. “How I treated….the baron…was wrong. I’ll admit that I went too far, and I shouldn’t have done it.”

“Thank you.”

“But, it would be a lie if I told you that I won’t threaten the next man who approaches you. And the next after that.”

Her temper rebelled as she moved her hand to his wrist, and tried to pry his fingers from her skin.

“Let go!”

“No. It enrages me to think about another man’s hands on you. No bridegroom would dare take you away from me. I won’t ever let you go. No one can love you like I can.”

“ _You_ enrage _me!_ Don’t you see that nothing can come of this? I will not be another responsibility you must deal with. I’m not who you truly want.”

“I will always have responsibilities,” he said; his voice taut with frustration. “ _You_ will not be one of them. I love you, Y/N. Do not tell me that you’re not what I want.”

He cut off her next line of speech; his voice filled with annoyed insolence.

“You’re so annoying. You are the most maddening women I’ve ever known. You push me away, and then beckon me closer in the same breath.”

“Is that what you think?”

“ _Yes._ And since we are being so honest, allow me to inform you of what else I think. You aren’t afraid to marry me because you believe it to be the easy way out. You’re afraid because- deep down- you know it will be hard. Accepting my proposal will be a million times more difficult than walking away.”

Her body was vibrating with anger and nervous energy, as was his. At the same time, she wanted to kiss the frown from his lips, and smooth out his brow.

“How could I ever mean as much to you as she did?”

“I loved you before I loved anyone….You’re my first love- my longest. The one that has never faded. Do you have an idea how much I need you? I’ve been tortured…Any hesitant on my part was not due to lack of desire. That, I promise you.”

He let his grip loosen under her chin, and moved his fingers to the back of her neck; slowly pulling her head to rest against his chest. After a few beats of silence, he pressed his lips to her forehead. His next words traveled softly across her skin. 

“I know I should let you go.”

“You’re my best friend. I don’t want to be with anyone else!”

She had grabbed his arm in her outrage; her voice rising.

“You didn’t let me finish,” he chastised- grabbing up her hand, and pressing it to his lips. “You know how I feel about marriage. I’ve approached every relationship with the knowledge that it couldn’t last. I didn’t set out to find a love match. I wanted anything _but_ that. I despised having any permanent attachment to another, because of what it would mean in the end. You witnessed what happened to my family after Father died…..But I’ve come to the realization that I’m not protecting you by keeping away. Letting you go so you could marry another would solve nothing, and would only hurt the both of us. So, though I know I should let you go, I’m a selfish man, and I cannot. I love you in all the ways a man can love a woman.”

“We both love one another…..Could it really be as simple as that?”

“I didn’t say that,” he whispered; using his thumb to brush away the tears that had fallen down her face. “There _is_ a price. A high price, indeed.”

She visibly swallowed; her eyes lingering over the features on his face.

“Tell me.”

“I often have thought on my desires. How could they possibly fit into the life that I have always been taught was about sacrifice, above all? I want you to marry me without the threat of loss. I would take the burden for you, if I could. But the truth is—there must be a sacrifice from the both of us. An offering is unavoidable. I have to learn to trust myself- that I won’t corrupt you, and can do right by you. You must trust yourself too—that you are enough for me—that I love you more than any other……I believe you can do this. In fact, I’m certain of it. And you have to trust me--- that’s the ultimate price.”

She pressed her face back into his jacket; her voice weak from the impact her heart had taken.

“Oh, Anthony…I love you so.”

He held her to him, but after a period of continued silence- one which clearly alarmed the viscount- he began to speak again; though quite nervously.

“I’ve hurt you- probably more times than I am aware of….But I will do everything I can so that it never happens again. From now on, you can depend on me. I will spend my life proving it to you, one thousand times over….And, if you don’t want to be with me….if you feel like you cannot…..I can’t promise I will be nice about it- not at first. It will be hard for me. I want you- this- more than I’ve ever wanted anything,” he roughly swallowed. “Just, don’t go away….Please don’t take your friendship from me…. don’t regret loving me.”

She grabbed his face, and pressed her lips to his; their teeth colliding at the force.

“I love you. I’m so sorry.”

He forgave her violence, and immediately responded; moving his mouth tenderly over hers. His teeth caught at her lower lip, worrying it. The pain caused pleasure to bloom at her center, and she moaned; arching against him. He answered by pulling her fully into his lap, and groaning against her neck.

“You believe me when I say that I love you- that I always will?”

“Yes,” she whispered, quickly inclining her head so she could reach his lips.

He pulled away with a small smile.

“And if I say I want to marry you---what do you say to that?”

“Did you ride here to ask me to marry you?”

“No,” he grinned. “I would never propose marriage in the muck, next to a horse, Y/N. I came here to apologize, and inform you of what I intend for us.”

“Did you?” she smirked.

“ _I did_. Though I cannot deny that the most recent Whistledown missive implored me to make haste.”

“Lady Whistledown? What is her part in this?”

“She said that you worship me.”

Her breath caught at the playful fire in his eyes. They beseeched her for an answer.

She would typically avoid such a gaze, but this time she couldn’t, and she had a strong feeling he wouldn’t allow her to hide, anyway.

“Is it true?”

“I love you, Anthony. I always have. And I want you to love me _\---only_ me.”

His mouth swiftly covered hers.

She could feel his tension as he fought to remain in control. His gentle urgency coaxed a moan from her.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he whispered; his mouth making a path down her neck. “I tried to decipher how you felt about me- nearly driving myself mad in the process- and the whole time, you—” he shook his head in exasperation, immediately pressing his lips to hers.

As he slotted himself in between her legs, his slight kisses became increasingly forceful; sending pangs to every part of her body. As his tongue passed over her lips, she opened to him; her fingers entwining in his hair, and tugging. His hands slid under her back, and drifted along her spine; molding and confirming their bodies together. He stopped his journey- his wandering hands stilling to cup her waist- and pull her snuggly against the hard ridge between them.

As she tensed in excitement, he guided her hips in a slow motion- a delicious friction building as he nipped at her lips. She moved her arms around his back; pressing his weight into hers.

He groaned against her mouth, then quickly edged back. She whimpered, and reached for him; annoyed by the slight smile that curved his lips.

He lowered to press a kiss into her forehead; his voice a low rumble against her skin.

“Speaking of worship……tell me about the strength of your faith.”

“My faith?”

“As I said, there is a price. I’m not an easy man to love. Belief of any kind- your belief in _me_ -—it has the strength to transform a person, does it not? My salvation requires that you trust me, but faith and great pain are often joined. Will you put your trust in this sinner, my love?”

“Always. There is no need to repent.”

When she next saw his eyes, her breathless state from the previous intimacy returned full force.

“Allow me to tell you of my faith,” he whispered. “Would you do something for me?”

“Yes…”

“I’d like for you to continue what you were doing, before I came and rudely interrupted.”

She looked at him in confused exasperation.

“Anthony, I can barely breath. I feel hot, and……provoked. I do not want to read right now.”

“And I am going to help you,” he said- the fire in his eyes blazing brightly. “Get onto your stomach.”

He lifted his brow, and frowned at her continued insolence.

“Trust me.”

She moved from him, and picked up her book; her gaze darting back to his.

“On your stomach. Eyes on the page.”

“Fine,” she smiled; slowly making her way down, and smoothing her skirts out behind her. She flipped to the first page, and grinned. “Would you like me to read to you?”

She nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt his warm hand press against her ankle.

“What—" she squirmed.

“Settle,” he whispered.

“But I---”

“I said stop moving.”

She stalled at his firm, insistent voice. The commanding tone that frequently took over was often an aggravation to her, but as his hand slid further up her leg, she allowed it- her eyes fluttering.

“Read. Let your mind drift away, love.”

She couldn’t focus on any of the words. They blurred into an unrecognizable mass as he inched up her skirt. At the moment, she was supremely happy that she was turned away from him, as she knew she must look a fool.

The air blew across her skin as her slip and petticoat were pressed up with clothing. Her eyebrows knitted with a slight anxiety and insecurity as his lips followed his hands. He grazed her with his mouth, switching between each leg, and heading upwards. Her body jolted as his tongue darted in the area behind her knees; his warm hands smoothing across her thighs.

As his tongue moved across her, she allowed the book to softly fall to the blanket. Her fingers tightened against the bindings as his lips lingered in the areas that made her shiver. She gasped as he delivered a well-placed nibble to her upper thigh.

She tensed as he moved closer to the part of her that she had always considered forbidden. He wouldn’t even have to disrobe her of her undergarments to see her completely, as all the women of the time wore bloomers that exposed that secret part of themselves. That same part pulsed, and her hips seemed to move back in search of his mouth as if her body was revolting against her learning propriety.

She didn’t want him to stop- whatever it was he chose to do.

“Let me worship you, Y/N.”

She bit against the skin of her wrist as his fingertips moved through the hair between her thighs, and drifted across her wet skin.

She heard the rough intake of his breath as he continued to tease her- his fingers moving back and forth, sending throbs of heat across her entire body. One particular spot made her moan reveal itself. She tangled her hands in the blanket as he focused on it; his fingers circling against her.

In a swift move, he had her flipped onto her back.

His eyes were glazed and hazy, and his nostrils flared as he examined her. She couldn’t stop herself from writhing under the look. As she did, he moved overtop her- trapping her in- his arm disappearing back between her legs.

Her eyes flew open as he circled two fingers around the entrance to her body.

“Easy,” he whispered, leaning closer. “Easy, darling girl.”

Then he was pushing inside.

She held her breath at the sensation. It wasn’t painful, as much as it was unexpected. She imagined she could feel her body making room for him. She shivered as he gently teased and kneaded her flesh, and her thighs tightened around his hips.

As she twisted, he moved onto his knees above her, and pressed his hand lightly against her stomach. Then he pressed against that delightful spot. She let her head fall further back, and closed her eyes; a moan leaving her as his lips fell to her throat.

She gasped as he added a second digit, and continued to circle her; his fingers simultaneously thrusting inside. All too suddenly, the fullness inside of her was gone, and so was his body heat.

She found the strength to open her eyes and look down. His brown eyes met hers from below.

“Don’t be ashamed,” he whispered.

Instinctually, her legs fell open for him, and then he was grinning- gripping her knees, and pushing them apart and back- the slit in her bloomers putting her glistening flesh on display before him.

“Beautiful,” he proclaimed, before lowering his mouth; his tongue dragging along her sex.

She groaned at the strange, intense sensation; her fingers diving into his hair. She couldn’t move her eyes from him, and he watched her as the quick flicks of his tongue made her moan.

Her body warmed as he continued his ministrations- each move sending bliss through every nerve. Then his eyes left hers. Her back arched as he careened his mouth over her center; and quickly circled his tongue, followed by a slow, precise suck that shook her entire body.

His mouth worked ardently as he traced his fingertips down her soft folds, and pressed them back into the tightness.

Her head fell back as he moved deep and fast; his tongue flicking sinfully against her, and alternating with a slow suctioning that made her legs tremble. Her hips moved on their own accord as the tension mounted. He pressed her down with his free hand on her ankle.

“Look at me,” he said.

Her eyes met his through a foggy haze.

He looked divine with his tousled hair, and his wet, swollen lips. The look of intensity on his countenance was one she had never seen on him, or any man. She could see the possession in his eyes. It scared her and exhilarated her, in equal measure.

“Tell me you need me,” he said, stroking and pressing without mercy.

“I need you,” she nodded, rocking against his hand. “I love you.”

“You _will be_ the new Viscountess,” he declared, immediately inclining his head to swirl his tongue against her pulsating body.

She dug her heels into his shoulders as the tensing and relaxing began to build to something incredible. It was then that she experienced an uncoiling unlike anything before it. The release was so consuming she felt as if she had been born anew. As it continued to flow and caress her, Anthony never stopped the quick movements of his tongue, and swift fingers. The sensation kept flowering, and changing form, and he accepted it all.

As she came down, she felt him slowly place her body back against the ground. Then his heat was enveloping her; his breath falling gently against her cheek.

“I love you,” he said, “pressing her palm to his heart. “Do you feel this? It belongs to you.”

She took a deep, shuddering breath, and wrapped her arms around him.

“I should have told you how I felt,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

“Yes. You should have. It was really…daft of you.”

“You shouldn’t call a man daft, Y/N. It can give him a complex. Though, I guess we can both be daft together.”

“Excuse me, I am _not_ daft.”

“Oh, yes, you are, sweet angel.”

She raised a brow at the hated nickname.

Anthony laughed, and pulled a flower from the earth; tucking it into her hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed part 2!

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing for this particular fandom and character, so I’ve been very nervous to post this! (PS: I’ve never read any of the books!)


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